Tickle

Bubbles break on dancing skin,
promised kisses and innocent sins.
We're meant to be the sky.
I know we're here but where am I?
Wandering little spiders giggle in the grass,
the sparkling eyes become a deep morass.

The party swoons, I bare my teeth -
can't feel the world the way it needs to be.
Nervous smiles are fragile toys;
my darling prince, am I a monster?
It's trivial to me, the time that we're apart -
something's wrong; nightmare's song.. is it dark?

Where is the waking world, or at least her pity?
I've always thought that tired ghosts are pretty.
We're meant to be the sky!
A sullen pulse lies that I don't want to die!
I'm devious of heart and maybe that's unholy.
For the little spiders, I might learn the future, slowly.